The Truth Behind Soul
by MiaMooMassacre
Summary: As Shaun takes a seat and stares over the words of the last ever song he would release as part of his former band Short Stack, he begins to remember everything that happened to him when he was younger, and why he wrote this song like he did. Fair amount of offensive language, self-harm and depression involved. It's not the best, but I had a go. : Please review!


_I thought back to my teenage years, what it felt like to be in so much pain, and have so little notice. I felt like I wanted to scream, to completely lose it all and just let out in a rage. But I couldn't. I couldn't let my mind win. I couldn't let the doctors convince me I was sick._

I'd show the world how great it is to be different. 

_**Help me father I don't think I'm ever gonna come down, ever gonna come down  
I could start a riot in my head, just watch me burn**_

Before I discovered my ability of song writing, I used to be miserable. People find it hard to believe, that behind all the smiling photos, all the laughing videos, all the freedom-fill performing, that I used to be on the verge of death. I could never really let out how I_ felt_; I mean to be honest half the time I didn't even really know. I felt numb, so separated from the world.  
I remember it so clearly...

People hated me, for the simple fact that I was _there_. My hair was dark and outside school I liked to wear tight black jeans, so I was automatically labelled as an 'emo', or a 'faggot'. I wore eyeliner and people acted like I committed a crime against nature. I hated it! And I started to hate myself.  
To hate thy self is one of which is considered a deep, and painful experience. I wouldn't exactly agree with that, but in a way I guess I could. I just seemed to be so used to it that I began to stop noticing what it was like to be me. What it was like to walk around with my head down constantly thinking people were staring at me and saying things to put me down, when half the time they weren't; I was invisible, no one knew me before I changed my life. I had no friends at this new school I started at; Hunter Performing Arts. I was in for my drawing skills, and although the classes were great, I was so miserable. I remember always sitting around during the breaks behind buildings where no one could see me, to avoid the names, the laughs; the hurt.  
What is a riot to you? For me, a riot starts out with only a difference in opinion between two or more people. For me, the difference of opinions was an argument I could only keep in my mind. My family would tell me I matter, and tell me I'm important. They'd tell me that I had a bright future ahead of me, and that I had so much potential. But I knew they were wrong. _They didn't know me like I knew me. _When you're told so much of something, you begin to believe it, even if it's not true. Think of it like a rumour, it isn't true, but it spreads around like mad and people will believe it so easily and use it against you; _they'll look at you different_. My mind was convinced that nothing positive was in my future. That my skills were nothing special. That no one cared about me or that I was in any way good looking. A wall was built that would block out anything I was told to try and convince me otherwise, and I just couldn't knock it down. The riot escalates, more talk becomes involved, and it begins to get out of hand. People get hurt, some even die. And what good comes out of it? The fact that you were right or wrong? No.  
You see, when you have no one to reach out to, and no one you can trust to open up to, you keep things deep inside. You think that they'll just go away and stop, but they don't. They make the riot bigger, and soon enough it gets out of control.  
I came home from school and rushed upstairs to my room, locking my bedroom door and turning my stereo on high. Mum was at work, and both of my brothers were over at their friends' houses. I couldn't take it much more. My skin was red, I was filling with anger, I was _burning_. I began to scream at the top of my lungs, hitting into my walls continuously. I knocked over everything I possibly could and threw my school books across the room. Nothing could hold back the tears that streamed down my cheeks. _**What kind of a life is this for a kid?**_ I opened my bedroom door and found myself walking toward the kitchen. I felt like I was in a trance, like I wasn't really controlling my body, my mind was just going along with it. Suddenly I was in the bathroom, stripped down to my underwear, standing in front of the mirror with a knife in my hand. I felt the blade pierce my skin and let crimson run down my stomach in one quick movement. I cringed at the pain, but I felt joy_. I liked it. _I started causing more incisions, writing the bloody word FREAK into my stomach, before moving the knife to my arms. Eventually I fell to the ground in pain, blood smudging over the white tiles. I felt so dizzy, my mind drifted. My head screamed to me: _**YOU NEED HELP SHAUN! **_  
Define help.  
The doctors define it as medication, therapy, you're seen as sick and you need _help._  
Me? I needed _someone._

_**I keep my soul stuck between an angel and an ash tray, angel and an ash tray, I could start a quiet riot, but I've got no soul.**_

I was worthless. Soul-less. My soul meant no more than ash, the figment of waste and a peasant to the mere matter of people, on the verge of death it lingered toward _the angels of death_. My head screamed and tormented me; it was a riot in my mind. But I could walk around with a smile on my face_. A fake smile_ and a quiet attitude. But what was the point of it?  
Eventually I was able to get up from the ground and drag myself into the shower, feeling a large stinging feeling through all of my body as the water washed away at the slices in my skin and cleaned the blood. When I got out of the shower I noticed all over I was starting to bleed again. I used at least more than 30 Band-Aids over myself just to stop the blood, so that no one would know. After my skin was dry I dropped the black towel from around me and pushed it over the blood-cover tiles with my foot, cleaning the floor so no one would see. I kept my music playing loud, so no one would hear. It was just easier that way. It mightn't sound like it, but if you've ever experienced it, the more that know, the harder the end becomes. I slipped into some boxer shorts and slowly made my way to my room, lying out on my bed and letting my mind fill the back of my eyelids with images of what I really wish the world would suffer.

The next day I was on the train heading to school, sitting alone with my ear phones blasting Blink182 into my ears. My eyes were kept to the ground for so long as I zoned out, when suddenly I saw two feet appear in front of me. I ripped my ear phones out at the surprise and looked up from where I sat, expecting a mouthful of insults by this blonde guy that stood before me. He had curly hair and a beach-type necklace on, which was usually the stereotypical type of guy to give me crap, when all of the sudden he spoke something unexpected. "You know what the best thing about being short is?" he asked.  
"What?" I replied a bit quiet; it wasn't often people wanted to make conversation with me.  
"When you hug girls you get their boobs in your face" he stated with a smug grin. I let out a laugh, finding his statement both humours and true. "I'm Andy" he then added and held out his hand.  
"Shaun" I said back and shook his hand. "So are you new to Hunter?" he asked me.  
"Kinda, I've been there for a few weeks now."  
"Oh really? I never really noticed you before," _No surprise_, I thought to myself, "What grade are you in?" he added.  
"I'm in 11, how 'bout you?" I'll admit I wasn't the greatest at keeping up conversation.  
"That's probably why I haven't noticed you. I'm in year 12. My step-brother over there is in your year though" he said, pointing over to a kid sitting on a seat a few meters away from us, one hand at his mouth playing with his braces as if it were some habit, the other holding a shiny purple phone that had his full attention. I'd seen him in my art classes before.  
"Queer..." I muttered to myself, which Andy seemed to have heard as he let out a light laugh. "Is it the hair?" he asked.  
"No, the phone. What straight guy has a purple phone case, honestly" I let out my mind for the first time in a long time. Andy chuckled and nodded in agreement. This was so… different.  
That day Andy and his step-brother decided to hang out with me during recess and lunch and we slowly became pretty good friends, well except me and Bradie; we kind of annoyed the hell out of each other. Andy asked me if I wanted to come to his place after school, which of course I didn't object to. He was turning out to be a real great friend from the moment we started talking, and suddenly after a few hours around him I was beginning to feel better about things.

At one point of playing video games, Andy left the room to go get a few drinks for us all, leaving me and Bradie sitting on either side of the couch. Because we didn't exactly get along it was extremely quiet, so out of boredom I pulled one of my school books out and flipped to the back page, holding my pen in my hand and absentmindedly writing down some sentences that had been running through my head continuously.  
Andy came back into the room holding two cans of coke and a cup of water, giving the coke to him and me while the water went to Bradie. Bradie stood from the couch and walked around to the back of it, and suddenly snatched my book from my hand, beginning to read what I'd written aloud:  
" 'In this place we lie cutting slightly in vein, hoping and praying you'll remember my name, if only tonight and only tonight you'll write back here, I swear I'm done.' What does all that even mean? You're so weird, man." He looked at me like I was a freak. I stood up and stole my book back from him, my hand clutching to it tighter than I've ever held anything as I scooped my bag up from the ground and stormed out of the house. I knew I was in for quite a long walk considering they lived in Gorokan and I lived in Budgewoi, but at the time I didn't care. What went on in my head was something I never wanted people to know. And sometimes writing it down was the only good way to get rid of it, but he had to go and read it. I threw my bag over my shoulders and began to run, making my way onto the main road to follow through to get home. I felt my eyes burn with tears; they'd never talk to me again, I was too different.

My legs started to burn once I'd gotten to Buffpoint, the suburb neighbouring my own. I saw a bench and sat down, finally letting go of my book and letting it fall onto my lap, my hand red and stinging. I opened the book and began to stare at the words, tears starting to drop over them and wash at the ink. In anger I ripped the page out, scrunching it up into a ball as I raised my feet up onto the bench and hugged my knees to my chest. I heard a car beep and looked up; my jeans on my knee drenched of tears, and saw my mum in her car across the road. I stood up and grabbed my book, before going over and getting in the car. "What happened to you, honey?" she asked. "I don't want to talk about it" I answered quite harshly as I looked out the window. Mum started to drive the short distance left to get home, and before she even turned the car off I ran to my room and collapsed onto my bed. My door quietly opened and my mum sat at the end of my end, the first thing she said made me want to burst into tears again. "Shaun, take off your jacket." She demanded. I knew exactly why. I sat up and looked at her, trying not to show how scared I felt at that moment. "Shaun please, do as I ask." I unzipped my jacket and slipped it off, trying to hide the embossed red cuts, but she grabbed my hand and pulled my arm in full view. "Sweetie…" she started, before I broke out in a tearing-rage, "Don't even fucking think about asking why, or telling me I need to see someone! You don't understand, no one ever understands!" She wrapped her arms around me and held me as I cried. "Sweetie I wasn't going to say any of that. I know I don't understand what you're feeling, but I do understand what you need at a time like this. Some of my best friends have been through similar situations, and whenever they received 'help' by doctors and councillors, they just got so much worse. I just want you to know that what really helps is to have someone around you, even if they're just sitting there. You feel like you want to be alone all the time, but really, it will help. Can you please at least try to have that in your life?"  
This was so strange. She was okay with this? Well I mean I knew she would have felt horrible knowing her kid could so easily put a blade to skin and be happy about it, but she didn't try to change that. She didn't tell me I was a freak, or what I was doing was wrong. She didn't _want_ me to get help.  
The next morning on the train, like the usual habit I sat alone with my music in my ears. I noticed someone sit beside me and thought nothing of it, until they continuously nudged me for my attention. I took out my earphones and noticed it was Andy. "What happened with you yesterday, man?" he asked.  
"Just some personal stuff…" I mumbled in reply.  
"Look, Bradie's an idiot; just ignore him. And, whatever it was that you wrote wasn't actually half-bad. Were they like, lyrics or something?"  
"They can be whatever you think for all I care, they were just in my head."  
"Well, Bradie and I have started this little band with our friend Shannon, and your writing skills could be a big help"  
"You want me to join a band? No thanks…"  
"Just give it a try? Don't you want to do something different for a change?" His words replayed in my head continuously, and suddenly I found myself replying without even thinking about it.  
"Uh yeah, why not?"

_**So what do you expect of me, be careful of those words, the blackest eyes you've ever seen, are coming your way sir! **_

My phones ringtone blared in the silence of my class; everyone's eyes turned to me. I glanced at the caller ID and almost immediately leaped from my chair. "Miss, do you mind if I quickly take this call outside; it's important..?"  
"Be quick about it, Shaun." She answered blankly.  
I ran outside and closed the classroom door behind me, before hitting the answer button and holding the phone to my ear.  
"Dad?"  
"Shaun I'm coming to pick you up from school, we need to talk." He said coldly, before hanging up on me without another word. What could he possibly want to pull me out of school for? It's not like he ever saw me anyway, ever since he left mum for that pig of a woman that uses him for his money. I went back into the classroom and sat at my desk, waiting for someone to come and tell me he was waiting at the office; which they did quicker than I anticipated. As he drove back toward mums place we sat in silence, which wasn't helping the anticipation I was holding in about wanting to know what was going on.

"John? Why isn't Shaun at school? He isn't due home for another 3 hours." Mum questioned as we walked through the door.  
"I wasn't going to wait that long. We need to talk about this stuff going on."  
"John if he wants to talk to us about that it's his choice, I only told you so you at least knew not to do stuff like this…"  
"Just, shut up. Shaun, what the hell are you doing?" He demanded, turning to face me.  
"Wha-…what do you mean?"  
"John…"  
"Liz, shut it! Are you really going to throw all the hard work we've put into you by killing yourself?"  
"JOHN!"  
"What about all your future plans? What we've been working you up to be? This is going to distract you from becoming a lawyer and that's not on. For fuck sake you can't even look presentable for school, how are you meant to represent people in court?"  
"How am I not presentable for school?" Was all I could manage to argue back without completely losing it with him.  
"Shaun, no one likes a faggot-looking kid that wears makeup."  
"Leave!" mum stepped in and ordered him out of our home. He continued to scream at me, make me feel as low and worthless as he possibly could. I couldn't take it anymore, I didn't think, I just felt my fist whoosh across his face, and watched him fall to the ground with a bloody nose and bruising cheek.

_**But I've got no soul, call the doctor, I can't stop her. We're keeping the faith yeah, we're keeping the faith alive.**_

"Shaun, sweetie please open the door. Your father is barely in our lives for a reason; don't listen to anything he says."  
I couldn't move. I felt my skin growing paler by the second. Everything looked…whiter, like a bright light just wouldn't stop lighting up.  
"Shaun, you're scaring me."  
I tried to talk, but nothing would come out. My face was pressed hard against the ground like the rest of my body, as more and more blood left my body. She broke into the bathroom using a knife in the lock, and fell to her knees by my side instantly. She didn't move me, she barely touched me, she just cried. Like she only just realized the extent of how fucked-up my mind was, and what I was really doing to myself. I could barely understand what she was saying on the phone; she was talking so fast, and her crying made it difficult to figure out her words. She was probably calling for help. "Don't" was all I could manage to make leave my mouth. She shook her head and continued to plead them: "please hurry." I didn't want to wake up, but there was no way of me stopping her getting me help. As she opened the door and assisted with them coming into the room, I slipped away into a world of darkness.

"Look mam, when someone in his condition is brought in, he has to see someone; he needs help."  
Said a voice I was unfamiliar with. I kept my eyes closed as I began to wake, listening to the conversation mum was having with the doctor.  
"Don't tell me what my son needs. That's for me to decide. He isn't seeing anybody from the mental centre."  
"no offence, but you deciding what he needs might not be the smartest idea. I mean, look where he is now…"  
"Are you fucking kidding? Get out!"  
As I heard his footsteps fade away I opened my eyes, looking around the hospital room I was in, and seeing mum break into tears. "Mum?" I asked groggy.  
"Hey sweetie" She smiled and said softly, wiping away her tears like I hadn't noticed them as she sat on the seat beside my bed.  
"I'm so sorry" I managed to say before I began to cry, hugging her to me tightly. Watching others reactions to the things you do, is never pleasant. "I promise it won't happen again; I'll get better" I continued to mumble in her shoulder.  
"I know you will honey. I have faith in you."

_**Help me father I don't think I'm ever gonna stop now, ever gonna stop now**_

I continued to lay there, completely restless. The clock on my beside table read 4:06 am, striking another hour since I'd checked it. The thought was on my mind so much. The thought of wishing I'd succeeded in killing myself, the thought of everything my dad screamed to me, the thought of what people would think if they knew.  
I guess I was, for once, kinda looking forward to getting to school. I'd most likely be falling asleep in classes, but at least I'd be distracted in some way.  
As soon as I got to the train station, walking down the stairs to the platform, Andy ran up to me and ripped me aside to where fewer kids were standing waiting for the train. "Dude, where have you been the past week?" he questioned with a concerned look to him.  
"I've had some stuff going on; I'd rather not talk about it" I mumbled, letting out another yawn and rubbing my eyes.  
"You look like crap man, are you okay?"  
I nodded and ignored the urge I had to just tell him everything; I mostly felt like it for the simple fact of letting it out, and to get him off my case. But I was good at pushing that want aside after doing so for as long as I had. "Hey, we've got band practice this arvo, want to come join us?" He asked as the train pulled up and we all began to pile on. "I guess. I haven't had any time to put together any songs though" I confessed, scratching the back of my head awkwardly.  
"That's okay man, maybe we can come up with some ideas at practice" he grinned happily.

As we arrived at school, I sat through my first few classes, too dazed to pay attention with what was going on, another feeling really getting to me. I wanted to cut again. Badly. I'd been holding a pair of scissors from my bag for a while now, supposed to be trimming some sheets so they'd fit in my book, but instead I was just staring at the blades, feeling their sharpness against my thumb. I slipped them into my pocket and asked the teacher if I could go to the bathroom. Once I was excused and in a cubical where no one could see me, I pulled the scissors out of my pocket and ran them across my right wrist a few times; nothing deep, nothing that could draw too much blood; but enough for the sharp pain to linger there. I heard someone else walk in as I came out from the cubical and quickly placed them back into my pocket. "Shaun?" Bradie asked, my head shooting up at the sound of his voice.  
"What?" I questioned back; my likings for him quite low after the way he'd treated me. How the hell was I supposed to be in a band with this kid?  
"Is that… blood on your shirt?" he questioned, pointing to the end of my shirt near my pocket where my wrist must have touch, leaving a large red stain. "Oh uh, probably, I dunno. I gotta get to class" I stuttered in a rush, walking past him in a quick pace and heading back to class, placing on my jacket as soon as I was back in my seat to cover up the spot.

As the day was coming to an end, I called mum to let her know I was going to Andy and Bradie's place for a few hours, and sat silent with them for the trip home. When we were back at Wyee train station, I got into the back of Andy's mum's car with him, while Bradie sat in the front and talked with her for the short trip to their place. When we got back, Shannon was already walking down the street on his way to meet up with us, and then we all made our way into the shed down the end of the driveway. We discussed a few song ideas and I wrote them down to work on at home, and later began listening to some Blink-182 tunes. "You know you two are pretty alright singers" Andy's mum commented to Andy and me as she brought in a few drinks for us. "Maybe youse could sing in the band too?" she suggested before walking out.  
"That's a pretty good idea, what do you think Shaun?" Shannon asked, playing around with his drum sticks.  
"Oh I don't know…"  
"Awe come on! I'll do back-up vocals and you can do lead; you're better at the higher notes than I am." Andy said in a beg.  
"That's for damn sure" Bradie mumbled before taking a sip of his drink. "Come on, it's not that bad. You can be the next Joel Madden" Shannon continued to try to convince me. "Alright! If it stops your begging I'll do it" I laughed, just wanting them to shut up.  
"Oh shit, I broke my guitar string" Bradie exclaimed at random.  
"Man I'm hopeless at re-stringing" Andy said looking down at his bass as Bradie turned to him. He then turned to me and asked for my assistance with it, and being pretty decent at it I agreed. He said the strings were in his room, so we took his guitar up and he gave it to me while he looked around for a new string. Feeling the heat hit me in his room I absentmindedly took off my jacket while I sat at the end of his bed, only realizing what I'd made noticeable when I saw Bradie's eyes widen as he passed me the guitar string. "What the fuck" he questioned and grabbed my hand before I could hide it. I ripped my hand away as he turned it and looked at the bright red, embossed marks. "Don't feel ashamed" he said and sat beside me as my head dropped like my mood. "You can talk to me if you need to" he said lighter, placing at hand on my shoulder sympathetically. "I thought you hated me" I mumbled as I continued to stare at the ground.  
"I thought you were different. Not in a bad way. I guess I'm just a little stubborn toward my brother's friends; most of his other friends are real assholes to me and I figured I'd beat you to it. But you're actually a decent guy." I looked up at him and he gave me a warm smile. "Is that what you were talking about in your book; that thing I read out?" I sighed and let out what had happened recently, and my real desires to hurt myself, surprisingly able to not even shed a tear about it, but keep strong and let it all out as I replaced the guitar string. As we made to head back to the shed, I gave him a hug and just deeply thanked him; things were starting to look a little up.

_**I started a war, because I could. And all you did was hold me down**_

The urge kept coming to me. Night was when it really got bad. I'd scream in my sleep, cry myself to dreamland, just lay awake arguing with myself in my head against it. It was like I was making the riot in my head worse; I was making it a war. A massive amount of me, throwing rocks, screaming, holding sticks of fire and threatening with guns and knives, trying and make me give in. And there I stood against myself, refusing. But it wasn't working. I may have not been hurting myself, but I was miserable. I couldn't put pen-to-paper, I could barely eat or drink; I felt like the world was against me. But I was that world.

_**Is this what you expect from me, my candle in the wind?**_

I could tell mum was losing hope in me. The way she watched me every morning, when I was having breakfast and on the way to the train station, she was paying too much attention to believe I was okay, no matter what I said. When the weekend came up, I sat in my room for hours, those things running through my mind again like sharp teeth. Random words, sentences, scenarios. I picked up my school book, on the back page where I'd written that other time, the words Bradie saw, but I'd ended up ripping out, and scribbled whatever it was that came to me; I was barely even looking at the page as I was writing. _'as my head hit the floor, I was dead 17 times.' _17, the total amount of times I'd tried to take my life. Granted the first ten attempted were minor and could barely count. '_I feel like nothing to the world.' _Evidently obvious. _'Every single regret in my mind convinced me 17 times' _Relating to what would be happening in my mind before I'd try to kill myself. I looked at the short sentences for a while; why couldn't this be a song? Bradie wouldn't judge me if I made something like this into a song. I mean, I wouldn't really have to explain it all to them, would I? But they didn't look too right; I needed to change them a little. I figured by changing it from directing to myself, to directing it toward two people, maybe they'd have more trouble catching on to its meaning_. 'We've become nothing at all, lead through the back of our spines, and as our heads hit the floor, we were dead 17 times.'_ I looked at my writing and smiled. They think I can't do it, like I'm fire against water; but I'll show them, I'm no fire, I'm a volcano.

_**Well cursed, I'll rate you a non-believer, patience running thin! **_

But they made it better. And he supported me. Bradie, the only friend of mine that knew what was beyond the long-sleeved shirts, helped me in every way possible. If I was feeling like crap at school, he'd invite me to stay over, and we'd just hang around playing video games, or even drinking alcohol, talking about my problems or not, just so he could try and put me in a better mood, and make sure I kept to my promise. At night, I felt like I was being attacked by a demon in my sleep, telling me it would never happen. I'd never get better. I'd never pull through, and I'd never live my dreams. This band would fall, my friends would leave me, and I'd have no family and nothing.  
_'Ugh enough!' I screamed to the cloaked demon in my dream. 'Fuck what you think! Fuck what you know. And fuck YOU!' I raged on; I could feel my sleeping-body tensing up. 'I'm going to get through. I'll be the best I can be, and I'll be love; just you fucking wait and see!' _

**Maybe they were right. In the end the band did fall. But what I succeed with those boys in the time we were together, and what I'll go on with, was everything they thought would only stay in my dreams.  
This song was personal to me, but if I wasn't releasing the album with our breakup, then I was sure as hell making sure those kids heard this. Now, they could really live through me, because they gave me back my soul. **


End file.
